Chapter Fourteen
Huxley
–3 weeks later
The moment my private jet lands in Los Angeles, I drive straight to my grandmother’s mansion in the Pacific Palisades. Normally I’d avoid a family dinner, but since Grace and I plan to announce our fake engagement and the fake bun in her oven, this will be the best time to do it.
Pounce before they can strike.
Naturally, traffic is terrible. I can’t decide which city is worse—L.A. or Paris. My two-week business trip was tiring, but at least I accomplished the key objective. The client acted like I was his savior for salvaging his disastrous perfume launch. Most think hiring a pretty and popular face is enough. But there’s so much more. The client isn’t in the business of selling perfume. He’s in the business of selling a dream—of beauty, of love and the future.
Grandma’s mansion is the main place of gathering for the Huxley family, and there are at least twenty vehicles parked around it as I pull up. I note the crowd sardonically. Grandma doesn’t collect cars—she doesn’t appreciate them and only has a Rolls-Royce because it’s comfortable and projects the right image.
A huge, ornate tapestry with the Huxley coat of arms hangs in the foyer, so none of us can ever forget the family motto. Silver wolves snarl, while PIETAS ET UNITAS glints in gold.
My phone buzzes with a text.
–Grace: I’m stuck in traffic. Gonna be late.
–Me: No problem. Drive safely.
–Grace: Thanks. At least I have the ring!
I smile. I didn’t have time to do the proposal in person, thanks to the emergency situation in Paris. So having a ten-carat solitaire ring from Sebastian Jewelry hand-couriered to her was the next best thing. It’s not unique like the moi et toi engagement ring Lucie got, but it’s a classic. And sticking to the classics is best when you’re trying to spin a lie.
But my family also knows that I don’t do vanilla. So I added my own touch by having our names engraved inside the band: Grace Lain I told her it was going to be just my family with about eight people at the most.
I walk to her and give her a brief kiss. “Some uninvited guests, although you’ll love Emma,” I murmur.
She nods vaguely as she takes in the scene. Unease tightens her brow. I place a soothing hand on her shoulder and turn to face our audience. Showtime.
“Everyone, meet my fiancée, Grace Lain.”
A long stretch of silence follows. Emma looks at us with loving approval. On the other hand, Grandmother has an inexplicable expression overlaid with a glimmer of…triumph? Mom cocks an eyebrow, then reaches for the humidor closest to her with a soft chuckle. How can the current situation be a win for my family? Andreas’s shoulders sag with…dare I say relief? Nelson slaps his forehead, and Karie turns red. Mick starts to laugh quietly, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.
Apprehension slices into my gut. Instinct screams that I’ve stepped into a trap, but how could that be?
Most importantly, how did they manage to set me up without tipping their hand?
Vivienne erupts, shattering the silence. She shakes off her mother’s hand and launches herself at Grace. “You fucking bitch !” Her fingers are talons, ready to rip Grace’s face off.
I shield Grace from the attack with my body, putting a hand out to keep Vivienne at arm’s length.
“Nelson, control your child!” Andreas says sharply.
Nelson shakes his head before getting up and coming to drag her away. Vivienne continues to flail and scream expletives. Karie puts a hand over her daughter’s mouth, but it isn’t enough to muffle her.
Mick hisses something in Vivienne’s ear and she finally quiets down, although her breathing is still rough.
Andreas lets out a long sigh. “Well. Now that order has been restored and everyone is here, it’s time to toast to our families’ union.”
“I’m not marrying her.” I tilt my chin at Vivienne. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t, not after that display. I’ve seen three-year-olds who behaved better.
Dumbass, Mick mouths as me, then smirks.
“No need. Grace is also my granddaughter,” Andreas says.
The words sink in, but suddenly the gears in my brain seem stuck. I follow his gaze, note it’s on Grace—my fake fiancée, the one I chose specifically to help me avoid marrying a fucking Webber like my family wants. “What?”
“And you gave her a ride. A classic meet-cute sprinkled with a dash of destiny.” Grandmother brims with satisfaction.
Mom puffs on her cigar with a victorious smile. “Straight out of one of those romcom movies. I wonder if your father will appreciate the irony.” She shrugs. “It appears that you won’t need John Highsmith after all.”
Oh… fuck !
The pieces start to fall into place. That rainy evening… Grandmother knew I wouldn’t stay, especially not when she offered me two options—join the firm or marry a Webber. She knew the route I’d take to get home. It would have been easy to place Grace on one of the streets I’d be on, and tell her to stop me. I should’ve realized it was weird there weren’t any cars around. How would she have gotten there without one?
The sob story about her mother was a stroke of genius to stir my sympathy and make it harder for me to say no to her plea for a ride.
Then the convenient excuse of her phone not working and how I had to get in touch with her to get the money she promised to pay me because she only had a single dollar bill.
The one-night stand we had was probably The Fogeys’ renewed attempt when it was taking too long for me to call her. Wouldn’t put anything past them. They could’ve hired somebody to follow me. Grace could then position herself where I’d see her, then get me to sleep with her.
I don’t know why she didn’t stay. She might’ve wanted to appear shy and reluctant. But when I called, she couldn’t disguise how happy she was. And she has made sure she never looked like the type who gets a three-hundred-thousand-dollar annual allowance. Wore cheap clothes. Pretended to be worried about not having money to buy dresses for my family’s dinners and social functions.
She even told me I should ask a female friend to be my fake fiancée. But she must’ve known I don’t keep a lot of women around as friends.
And I never suspected anything. Sheer rage and humiliation slam into me. What a fool I’ve been!
Pasting on a smile, I give them the clichéd slow clap. “Bra- vo . Very well done.”
Grace turns to me. “Huxley…” Anxiety threads her voice.
Getting scared? Too late, sweetheart. You’ve already stuck your hand into a hornet’s nest.
Mick’s silent laughter grows audible. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard.
I force myself to unclench my hands and concentrate on keeping my breathing even. Everyone in the room seems to be pleased to have gotten what they wanted. But if they thought this would be the end, they thought wrong.
This is just one battle. I will win this war, no matter the cost.